


gg (i'm proud of you)

by Alienu



Series: MCC fics [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Boys In Love, Fluff, Gay, Kissing, Love, M/M, No Angst, No Smut, Romance, consider this a continuation of winners pov, hand holding, just guys making out with the homies, sorry :(, very rushed, yeah another MCC fic cuz why not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:49:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27585017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alienu/pseuds/Alienu
Summary: “I like seeing your face.”“Do you?”“Yeah.”
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: MCC fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2053341
Comments: 23
Kudos: 572
Collections: MCYT





	gg (i'm proud of you)

**Author's Note:**

> this was super duper rushed, sorry :(
> 
> I have a twitter!!! @Alienu_

George, he thinks, is beginning to look natural with that crown on his head.

The roar of the crowd is deafening in his ears, even louder now that he’s not the one up on the walkway this time, confetti fluttering in the air like rainbow colored snowflakes. His throat is raw and sore from screaming during Dodgebolt, which he doesn’t regret in the slightest because George _won,_ and it was worth it. So worth it. He’d yelled so incredibly loud when George made the winning shot, nothing but burning hot pride filling him as he watched the brunet’s face light up in victory, the opposing team’s player disappearing in a flash of sparks and the familiar winning sound effect blaring through the arena.

And now, he’s here. Watching Wilbur tackle George into a hug, watching Phil help TapL adjust the crown on his head, the latter’s hands far too shaky to do it himself, and watching them grin in triumph as the supportive cheers of the other contestants fill the air. His hands tighten around the railing, leaning forward and smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. The admins, predictably, usher the group together for pictures, so Dream gives up on trying to catch the older’s attention. The pictures are taken, and God the cheering is starting to kill his eardrums. Dream begins to move away, burying the cold bitterness that’s begun to surface at the memory of his own team’s bad placing. Sapnap shoots him an odd look when he pushes past, but makes no move to stop him, so Dream finds himself walking through the confetti littered walkways, hands stuffed in the pockets of his pants and the party hat they’d all been forcefully given still stuck annoyingly onto his head. It’s quieter here, away from the crowd (even if he can faintly hear them all in the distance), and he’s halfway tempted just to go back home. Back to the Dream SMP, where he knows he’ll find Quackity and Karl, maybe even Tommy if he’d already dipped out of the celebrations.

He doesn’t, though, and just wanders. The area for MCC is nicely decorated, fun little builds strewn about and nice walkways paved into the ground. Dream wanders for a while, taking in the sight he only gets to see once a month, and breathes in the cool night air. He absentmindedly wonders just how Technoblade is able to wear these sorts of clothes all the time, the red cloak weighing heavy on his shoulders and the pants almost uncomfortably loose. He prefers his tight fitting clothes (not including his hoodie, of course), snug yet flexible, and easy to maneuver in. But, to each their own, he supposes.

It’s late by the time he realizes it would be a good idea to circle back. By now the cries have died out, people probably already bundling into their respective portals and heading home. As always, there are a few that still loiter around the area, making use of the one time a month most of them get to see each other, but Dream sees neither George nor Sapnap. _They probably went home._

“Boo,” a voice says right next to his ear. Dream startles a little, breath hitching, before turning around to see the cheeky, grinning face of MCC’s latest winner. George looks at him, snickering, “Scared?”

“No,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes and shoving the other away playfully. The brunet huffs, and they fall into a short, content silence. Dream takes in his appearance, the golden crown placed with care on his head, disrupting the usually tamed brown locks of hair. His eyes are, as always, hidden behind the dark lenses of his goggles. George tilts his head with a questioning hum. Dream tugs himself out of his thoughts with a shake of his head, lips lifting into a smile, even if George can’t see it behind his mask. “Congrats. Back-to-back wins!”

“Thanks,” George grins wide, pride tinging his words. “I told you I would do it.” A puff of amusement slips past Dream’s lips. He crosses his arms, and George takes in his outfit. His eyebrows raise questioningly, “What’s with the outfit?”

“Oh,” He looks down at himself, a sheepish chuckle escaping him, “I was harnessing Techno’s power. Clearly it didn’t work.”

“Right.” George laughs quietly, “You look dumb.”

Dream scoffs, makes to ruffle the other’s hair, but he dodges his attack and then the blond is being pulled along as George tugs them into a walk, the air cooling his flushed cheeks. Dream tries to ignore hotness in his cheeks, startling a bit when George’s fingers brush softly against his palm, hesitant and uncertain, and then retreats. He smiles to himself, chest fluttering with a numbing, honey-like warmth. It takes three minutes of George’s hand nervously slipping in and out of his, but soon Dream is grinning so hard his sore cheeks are hurting even more, happily swinging their intertwined hands together. 

George tugs his cloak gently, “What did you place?”

“Hm?” He blinks, tilts his head for a moment, “Overall? Eighth, I think.” 

The brunet glances up at him, a thoughtful hum sounding in the back of his throat. “What about your team?”

“Fifth,” he answers easily, keeping his voice level. The bitterness at their bad placing is still there, yet to disperse, and he can’t help but be angry with himself for not doing better. He should’ve done better, actually. It’s...no. He pushes back the sour, competitive side of him. George won. He’s happy for him, even if that meant he lost. Dream glances to the side, watching the way the water ripples up to the shore of the beach. “You did good in Dodgebolt.”

“I did,” George grins proudly, smile faltering slightly when he catches sight of the blank smile of Dream’s white mask. “You’re still wearing your mask?”

“Did you want me to take it off?” He raises an eyebrow, knowing George can’t see it, and chuckles a little when he looks away. 

His voice pitches a little, his words quiet and rough, sandpapery, “I like seeing your face.”

Dream chuckles quietly, “Do you?”

“Yeah.”

Oh. He blinks, heart stuttering at the simple and straightforward answer. He opens his mouth to speak, to keep up the flirty tough guy facade he puts up so often, but his mouth is dry. There’s a brief silence when he tries to form words, but they won’t form how he wants them to, so he ends up stuttering and stammering, unable to put together a simple sentence.

George giggles, amused, and taps his mask playfully, _knowingly_. “Dream can’t take a dose of his own medicine?”

“Shut up,” he mumbles halfheartedly, sighing a little when the older laughs again, and reaches to undo the clip. His mask falls off, into his hands, with a gentle click. He’s positive that his face is a glowing red, flushed not only from the cool air but the banter with the brunette beside him, and George looks at him with a satisfied half smile. He raises an unimpressed eyebrow, feigning annoyance, “Better?” 

“Much,” George replies, giving his hand a little squeeze. The blond stifles the affectionate grin that threatens to surface, taking a moment to tuck the mask away so that it hangs loosely at his belt. Crickets chirp now, their soft calls hidden by the sound of waves lapping at the shore of the beach. Dream breathes softly, thumb rubbing small circles on the back of the brunet’s hand, enjoying the way the soft skin feels under his touch. George pulls them to a stop, making the taller shoot a questioning glance at him. He smiles, “Where’s my reward?”

“What?” He says.

George cocks his head with a coy smile, “For winning, idiot.”

“Right,” Dream scoffs a little, rolling his eyes, “you realize that only applied to last MCC, right?” He smiles a little at the memory.

“Yeah? Says who?” He giggles, and Dream leans forward with an amused smirk, choosing not to reply. “That’s what I thought.”  
  


“You’re dumb,” Dream says, leaning so close that he can feel George’s breath on his lips, can smell his scent, all vanilla cake and warm mint, can see the way his eyes, half-lidded, glimmer with something sly and playful, a side of him that not many get to see. “You could’ve just asked, y’know.”

A soft laugh. “Where’s the fun in that?” George says, and then he pulls him in for a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! I'm sure most of you don't, but lately there have been fics going around with these elements. So if you support the production of and/or enjoy fics that include noncon/rape and/or the shipping of real minors (this applies to people who have stated they're uncomfortable with shipping too), please do not interact with me or my works. If you support problematic ships at all, do not come near me, I want nothing to do with you. That's all!


End file.
